“Help, help! they’ll drown, oh, they’ll drown!” she screamed as she ran.

Harold, who was in the act of descending the last flight of stairs, saw her running toward him, and heard her cry, though the noise of the surf prevented his catching all the words.

“What’s the matter?” he shouted, clearing the remainder of the flight at a bound.

“Betty, Bob—­drowning!” she cried, without slackening her speed, “I’m going for help.”

He waited, to hear no more, but sped on toward the water; and only pausing to divest himself of his outer clothing, plunged in, and, buffeting with the waves, made his way as rapidly as possible toward the struggling forms, which, by the light of the moon, he could dimly discern at some distance from the shore.

Faint cries for help and the gleam of Betty’s white arm, as for an instant she raised it above the wave, guided him to the spot.

Harold was an excellent swimmer, strong and courageous; but he had undertaken a task beyond his strength, and his young life was very near falling a sacrifice to the folly of his cousins and his own generous impulse to fly to their aid.

Both Bob and Betty were already so nearly exhausted as to be scarcely capable of doing anything to help themselves, and in their mad struggle for life caught hold of him and so impeded his movements that he was like to perish with them.

Mean while Lulu had reached the top of the cliff, then the veranda where the older members of the family party were seated, and, all out of breath with fright and the exertion of climbing and running, she faltered out, “Bob and Betty; they’ll drown if they don’t get help quickly.”

“What, are they in the water?” cried Mr. Dinsmore and Captain Raymond, simultaneously springing to their feet; the latter adding, “I fear they’ll drown before we can possibly get help to them.”

“Oh, yes; they’re drowning now,” sobbed Lulu; “but Harold’s gone to help them.”

“Harold?  He’s lost if he tries it alone!” “The boy’s mad to think of such a thing!” exclaimed Mr. Dinsmore and Edward in a breath, while Elsie’s cheek turned deathly pale, and her heart went up in an agonized cry that her boy’s life might be spared; the others also.

The gentlemen held a hasty consultation, then scattered, Mr. Dinsmore hastening in search of other aid, while Captain Raymond and Edward hurried to the beach, the ladies following with entreaties to them to be careful.

But fortunately for the endangered ones, other aid had already reached them—­a boat that had come out from Nantucket for a moonlight sail, and from the shore a noble Newfoundland dog belonging to a retired sea captain.  Strolling along the beach with his master, he heard the cries for help, saw the struggling forms, and instantly plunging in among the waves, swam to the rescue.

Seizing Betty by the hair, he held her head above water till the sailboat drew near and strong arms caught hold of her and dragged her in, pale, dripping, and seemingly lifeless.